


Home at the Bottom of a Glass

by darkfaerieclaw



Category: Final Fantasy IX
Genre: Gen, Wordcount: 100-500
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-19
Updated: 2010-11-19
Packaged: 2017-10-13 06:51:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/134233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkfaerieclaw/pseuds/darkfaerieclaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>People go to Cafe Doom on Friday nights when they have no other place to go. Zidane frequents Cafe Doom only when he has to. And Freya? Well...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home at the Bottom of a Glass

Stepping out into the rain was like suddenly finding himself assaulted by an endless torrent of arrows, but Zidane still wasn't sure if the rain was quite as bad as Cafe Doom on a Friday night. Which wasn't to say Zidane didn't like the place - he did, and Bobo was a great guy if you weren't being a pest - but Zidane would have thought a diner that named its foodstuffs after sicknesses wouldn't be as popular as it was, even among the crowd that it attracted. But the food was tolerable, once you got used to it, and the drink could make a lesser dedicated alcoholic reconsider his life choices, and that was all that really mattered.

The place stank just as strongly of despair and hopelessness as it did of booze by the time the clocks hit nine.

Zidane sat himself next to a tall Burmecian woman as soon as he came in, striking up a conversation. It worked best mostly if the pockets he planned on picking didn't see him, but nobody ever remembered his face here when the sun rose. Besides, the rain didn't show any signs of slowing, let alone stopping, and boredom had always been Zidane's greatest weakness.

"I'd like a refill, bartender," Freya said, waving her tankard at Bobo. "And a petrified sirloin and a glass of water for my friend, here."

"Water? Come on, who goes to a bar to drink water?" Zidane said, not terribly bothered. Freya inclined her head. "I'm drinking water, too, brat."

"Huh," Zidane said, taking a long, theatrical gulp from her tankard, once Bobo placed it in front of Freya. "Yeah, you are. Why is the water fizzy?"

"That was mine, in case you were wondering," Freya said, smiling a little now. "It's carbonated."

Zidane knew the smile; he saw it whenever he came by Cafe Doom. It was the smile worn by people who lost everything but still clung to hope with tired fingers. "Sure, but why carbonated?"

Freya spoke, still smiling, but didn't answer. Later, when they were better acquainted and Freya would reminisce about Burmecia, Zidane would take note of the way Freya petted her tankard whenever she spoke of the soft, constant patter of the everlasting rains on her window, and the way it rained like something out of a gothic tragedy when her Sir Fratley left, and he would remember the way she smiled privately at the tankard of water, like it was a sentient, feeling creature, and said, "It just takes me back, is all."

Zidane nodded, and made a conscious effort not to steal from her once she began relaxing her guard. No way was he going to let this be the last time they met; she was far too interesting to be just another pocket. He raised his glass slightly and said, "Yeah? Then here's to many happy returns."


End file.
